The Phantom of the Genetic Opera
by the1andonlyofo
Summary: Takes place following the events of Repo! Unbeknownst to everyone else, a masked stranger steps through the mirror and two disfigured men find comfort in each other's embrace. SLASH WARNING!
1. Chapter 1: After the Opera

DISCLAIMER: Repo! The Genetic Opera belongs to Terrance Zdunich and Darren Smith. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Gaston Leroux.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've noticed that I have a habit of including these rather lengthy author's notes at the beginning of every chapter of every story, and often that same chapter has an equally lengthy endnote. Just an observation (which has coincidentally made this author's note even longer. Go figure.)…

I know that it's been awhile since I've updated _Hell Hath No Fury 3: Terminus, _but I've hit a standstill. I have no idea how to proceed. I'll never quite a story so it will eventually continue. You have my word.

In the meantime, I've been posting some short little oneshots that randomly pop into my head, the most recent of which being a _Hellraiser/Labyrinth _crossover. As inspiration strikes, I take full advantage of it. This usually results in a ton of half-formed story ideas that are collecting figurative dust on my hard drive (hopefully, they'll get posted some day). This one has the makings of a longer story, maybe not as long as HHNF, but definitely longer than stories like _If I Fell _and _In Tall Order. _

This first year of college has been a time for discovery and I've found numerous random things to obsess over, two of them being _The Phantom of the Opera_ and _Repo! The Genetic Opera_. I'm actually kinda surprised that no one's written any crossovers for these two (YAY! I'm original!), especially seeing that Sarah Brightman, who played Blind Mag in _Repo!, _played Christine in the original Broadway production of _Phantom _(ironically though, Mag will not make an appearance in this story). When I first saw Repo!, I immediately drew parallels between Erik the Phantom and everybody's favorite face-stealing sex addict, Pavi Largo (damn all those years of honors English classes), the most prominent of which being their physical appearances: dark hair, well-dressed, disfigured faces covered with "masks." They're also opera buffs with a taste for murder. But after that, the similarities stop and the two men become polar opposites. Pavi oozes confidence and charisma, turning his disfigurement into his defining feature. He's vain and arrogant, but charming enough to have lured countless women into his bed. Erik lurks in the shadows, hiding his disfigurement from the world. He's reclusive and introverted, never knowing love (or anything like it) and the pleasures that come with it, having been scorned by the only woman he ever loved. What a perfect pair, Pavi and Erik…

If you haven't already guessed it, this is going to be a slash fic, something that's been long overdue for me. Of course there's Adrian and Dimitri in HHNF, but it's about time I do a story focusing on a same-sex relationship (and one longer and more in depth than _If I Fell)_. This seemed like the perfect opportunity (and I deeply love both Erik and Pavi). My beloved Paviche has a rather heavy Italian accent so bear with me. I've done accents before; they're kind of annoying, but necessary to properly portraying a being said, I present to you…

The Phantom of the Genetic Opera

Chapter 1: After the Opera

Pavi sat before the vanity mirror, admiring his latest face half-heartedly. It wasn't that the face wasn't perfect, quite the contrary. The middle Largo child just had a lot on his mind. It had been a few weeks since his father's death and so much had changed. He and his siblings were still living in luxury, but who knew how much longer that would last. Amber was doing a terrible job at running GeneCo, using her new position of power as an excuse to receive free surgeries and fuel her growing zydrate addiction. Her addiction had always been bad, but in the few weeks that she'd been in charge it had only gotten worse. She spent most of her time in a zydrate-induced haze. Nothing was getting accomplished. With the death of Nathan Wallace organ repossessions had come to a standstill. The grave robbers were running rampant throughout the cemeteries of Sanitarium Isle. Things needed to change, and soon, before everything went to shit.

Deep down, Pavi missed his father, though he'd never admit it to a soul. At least things made sense when he was in charge. His whore of a sister didn't deserve their father's life's work, maybe none of them did. He'd come to realize that in recent weeks. If Luigi had taken over, countless innocent people would be dead. Pavi himself would've just been given more leeway for his face-stealing. Shilo had fled, wanting nothing to do with the powerful biorepository Rotti wanted to leave her. Maybe she would be doing a better job than Amber was. Hell, anybody could probably do a better job than Amber. Pavi had undergone a drastic overhaul and no one noticed it more than the GENterns. It had been several weeks since he'd taken a single one of them to bed with him and they'd begun to mourn his absence. But Pavi could've cared less. His interest in them had dwindled. He'd turned over a new leaf and was looking for something he couldn't find in their shallow embrace.

"Paviche."

Pavi started at the sound of his name.

"Very-a funny, _fratello,_" he replied, thinking that Luigi was fucking with him.

Silence, and then a soft, musical chuckle. Definitely not Luigi, but the voice held some familiarity to the youngest of Rotti Largo's sons. He'd heard that same voice singing softly in the dead of night, echoing from some distant location whose origin he couldn't pinpoint; a voice filled with passion and dedication that was almost overwhelming to experience. Pavi spun around, feeling eyes at the back of his head. An unseen pair of eyes watched on.

"I've-a heard your voice before, singing in-a the dark," Pavi stammered, nervous that someone had such close access to him yet he could not see the person. "It's-a rather lovely."

More melodic laughter, not unlike the girlish giggling of the infatuated young women that frequently followed Pavi.

"Where-a are you?" Pavi asked, circling the lavish bedroom, his head on a swivel. His nervousness was quickly escalating toward panic, but his curiosity kept him from calling for the GeneCops. Part of him longed to meet the talented stranger who serenaded him in his sleep.

"_Flattering child, you shall know me_

_See why in shadows I hide._

_Look at your face in the mirror!_

_I am there inside!"_

Pavi spun to face his reflection in a full-length mirror by the bed just as the lights in the room went out, the only illumination the flickering flames of the candles on the vanity. Pavi involuntarily jumped backwards with a silent scream as his reflection was replaced with that of another. The gold-framed mirror had hung on that wall for as long as Pavi could remember, but he had never thought of the possibility that, as he stood before it preening himself, someone else was looking back from the other side.

A man peered back at Pavi, a well-dressed, dark-haired man. A white mask covered half of his face, but the visible part was quite handsome. Pavi hesitantly approached the mirror, a single shaking hand outstretched before him. He expected to feel cold glass beneath his fingertips, but the stranger had mirrored his movements and instead Pavi's fingers touched the warm black leather of the man's gloves. The situation had become too much to handle. As Pavi lost consciousness, he just made out the stranger lunging forward to catch him before he could fall to the ground.

-,-'-

Pavi awoke in the wee hours of the morning feeling groggy and disoriented. He was lying in his bed fully clothed and had no recollection of how he had gotten there. He sat up and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and shuffled over to the mirror yawning. He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection. He started as the events of last night came crashing home. The mirror, there had been a man in the mirror, a man who'd been watching him for who knows how long. That beautiful voice…must have been a strange dream.

He undressed and returned to his bed, dismissing his thoughts of the stranger. As he rearranged the covers, he found a single red rose amongst the tangled bedding. Tied to its stem with a length of black ribbon was a small note baring only two letters, initials it seemed: "O.G." He seized the flower from the sheets and tossed it into a corner in fear. He turned back to the mirror, expecting to see that partially-masked countenance staring back at him, but all he saw was a frightened looking Italian in nothing but black satin undershorts, wide eyes staring back through holes in a dead woman's face. Pavi found an old blanket and, by means of a staple gun, affixed it to the wall so it covered the mirror. His work down, he clambered back into bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Through the Looking Glass

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The writer's block has been lifted, at least for now. Anyone who's read my Hell Hath No Fury trilogy knows I have serious problems with that. But I've finally updated and it's a decently long chapter!

WARNING! There's sweet, sweet man sex in this chapter. You've been warned ;)

Chapter 2: Through the Looking Glass

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Luigi demanded of Pavi at the dinner table. His younger brother had been acting very strange lately (well, stranger than usual). He was quieter than usual and always looked tired, as though he wasn't sleeping well. Strangest of all was the absence of the ever-present hand mirror. Pavi seemed to be avoiding reflective surfaces all together.

"What? Oh, it's-a nothing, _fratello,_" Pavi muttered, pushing his food around on his plate.

"Fuckin' weirdo," Luigi mumbled, picking his steak knife up off the table and throwing it at the opposite wall in a sudden and unjustified fit of rage.

Amber, who was drifting through the meal on her own little blue cloud, jumped at the sudden sound.

"Pavi, stop being weird," she sighed, absentmindedly twirling a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Pavi pushed away from the table and left without a word.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" Luigi bellowed, throwing Amber's steak knife after his younger brother. The blade embedded itself in the wood beside the doorway.

Pavi disappeared back into his room, flopping backward onto his bed as he entered. Why was he cursed with such a dysfunctional family? He wasn't exactly "normal" himself, but an entire family of mentally unstable people was sometimes too much to handle. No wonder his father had died. He closed his eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep. His constant fear of the masked stranger had him unable to sleep most nights. The man hadn't returned in several days, but Pavi couldn't shake his uneasiness.

As he slept, the large mirror that had been covered slide sideways in its frame. The masked stranger stuck his head out of the opening and peered around. He noticed Pavi unconscious on the bed and slowly crept toward him. He stopped beside the bed and watched the other man sleep, his chest gently rising and falling. The stranger reached a gloved hand toward Pavi, hesitating for a moment before gently running a finger along the border of the dead woman's face, caressing the scar tissue that peeked out around it. He placed his other hand against the cool surface of his own mask. His heart beat wildly in his chest. An all too familiar feeling crept through his body.

"Dare I fall again?" the stranger whispered to himself.

Though the words were barely louder than an exhaled breath, Pavi started suddenly, waking to find himself face to face with the object of his fear. He recoiled from the unwanted touch.

"Please," the stranger said. "Don't be frightened. I mean you no harm."

"Who the fuck are you?" Pavi demanded. "How-a did you get here?"

"My name is Erik, but I was once known as the Opera Ghost or the Phantom of the Opera."

"You're a ghost?" Pavi asked, backing further away.

"No. I am just a man," Erik replied.

"Why-a do you wear the mask?" Pavi inquired, even though, deep down, he knew the answer.

"Why do you wear yours?"

A slight smile graced Pavi's lips.

"Touché."

Erik returned Pavi's smile.

"Will you come with me?" Erik asked.

"What?" Pavi exclaimed. "Where-a?"

"Through the looking glass, of course," Erik said. "Come on, Alice."

Pavi chuckled and, against his better judgment, followed Erik through the mirror.

"I-a didn't know these tunnels existed," Pavi said.

Erik took Pavi's arm and drew him close.

"Stay by me," he said. "I won't let you get lost."

The tunnels were winding and almost pitch black, but Erik navigated them with ease. After what seemed like eternity, they emerged into a large and surprisingly lavish room. An organ sat in the corner near a table littered with papers, half written songs. A raised platform at the opposite end of the room sported a large bed. The frame was carved to resemble a swan and it was furnished in red velvet. Another table sported a variety of makeups, wigs, and masks.

"Please, make yourself at home," Erik said.

Pavi crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Erik joined him moments later, a glass of red wine in each hand. He handed one to Pavi. Before long, Pavi had loosened up and was talking with Erik as if they were old friends.

"So those horrid two are your siblings?" Erik laughed.

"Unfortunately so," Pavi sighed. "We-a weren't always like-a this. We were a pretty normal family. Then Papa started GeneCo and it-a got bigger than he'd thought. He-a saved the world, but once it was saved we-a began to over indulge."

Pavi absentmindedly brought a hand to his face.

"I-a didn't always look-a like this," he sighed. "I-a was beautiful once, but I-a couldn't see it. I-a tried to fix what didn't need-a fixed and now I can't fix the damage that's-a been done. I-a was stupid and look-a what I've done to myself!"

A few bitter tears ran down Pavi's stolen face. Eric extended a leather clad finger to wipe a tear away.

"I was born like this," Erik said. "My own mother didn't love me. I was the Devil's Child in a freak show in Paris. I escaped and took refuge in the labyrinthine basement of the Paris Opera House where years later I fell in love with a young soprano. She scorned my love and ran off to marry another man."

Pavi looked down, suddenly feeling somewhat ashamed. Despite his self-caused deformity, he still lived in the lap of luxury and women crawled all over him, even if it was because of his wealth. The man before him spent his life in the shadows, never knowing the affection of another human being. He didn't know if it was the wine or this sudden realization or maybe even a combination of the two, but something urged him to reach out and embrace the man before him. He brought his hand to the mask that covered Erik's face and gently pulled it aside, tossing it to the floor. Erik turned away, shielding his face with his hand. Pavi lovingly removed Erik's hand and turned the Phantom's face toward his own.

"Don't-a hide from me," Pavi whispered. "You're beautiful."

Pavi pressed lips that weren't his against the imperfect flesh. He pulled back and stared into Erik's eyes. He saw trust within them, something he'd never seen in any eyes that looked upon him. He was overwhelmed with the need to protect this man, to cherish him like no one ever had. He reached up and unfastened the clips that held his own mask on. He flung the dead flesh away and looked at Erik with newfound confidence. He took the other man's face in his hands.

"I-a wouldn't dare do this with anyone's lips but-a my own," he sighed before pulling Erik into a kiss.

Erik tensed up momentarily, stunned by the sudden action, but melted into the kiss before long. Pavi pushed him down into the bed, pressing his body against the other man's. He gently probed at Erik's lips with his tongue, seeking entry. Erik was happy to oblige, eager to accept what the more experienced man had to offer. He bucked his hips upwards, grinding against Pavi, who chuckled and pushed Erik harder into the bed. He ran a hand up Erik's chest, unbuttoning his shirt and revealing a surprisingly toned torso. He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around a hardening nipple. Erik ran a hand through Pavi's silky ebony locks. The youngest Largo son moved his hands to Erik's waist and undid the belt and fly with confident fingers. He gently stroked the already hard member he unveiled. Erik sucked a sharp breathe through his teeth. Pavi looked up at his new lover and smirked. Erik sat up, capturing Pavi's lips with his own. With trembling fingers, Erik undid the buttons on Pavi's vest and shirt. He slowly ran his fingers along the lean muscle, gently tweaking a nipple as he passed it. Pavi had removed his own pants as Erik explored and now pressed the Opera Ghost back into the bed. He returned to Erik's waiting lips, pressing his nude body into his companion's and reaching between them to stroke their erections in tandem.

"Turn over," Pavi whispered, prompting Erik to get on his hands and knees.

Erik complied, casting a curious expression over his shoulder.

"I-a promise I'm not-a going to hurt you," Pavi whispered, planting a kiss on Erik's bare shoulder.

Pavi silently cursed himself for being so unprepared, but had to make do with what he had available. He inserted two fingers into his mouth, sufficiently coating them before slowly pressing them into Erik's presented opening. Erik gasped, more in surprise than actual pain. Pavi moved his fingers about for a minute or two before withdrawing them. He spit into his palm several times, trying to lubricate himself as best he could.

"Relax," Pavi reassured, taking hold of Erik's hips. "Don't-a clench."

He eased forward, slowly and gently pushing through the tight ring of muscle. Erik gasped and buried his face amongst the bed clothes. Pavi stopped.

"Are-a you alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned he'd hurt the other man.

"I'm fine," Erik mumbled. "Don't stop."

Pavi proceeded with more caution, fully sheathing himself in Erik's body. He ran a hand comfortingly along Erik's lower back before slowly beginning to thrust. Erik kept his face buried in the bedding, breathing heavily as he adjusted to the new, and not wholly unpleasant, intrusion. The slight burning sensation was slowly fading and being overpowered by pleasure that intensified every time Pavi hit a certain spot. After a few minutes he lifted himself off the bed and began to move with Pavi. Pavi reached around to stroke Erik in time with his thrusts. Erik came before Pavi, who he followed closely behind. He pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside Erik, eyes closed and breathing heavily. After a minute, he opened his eyes and peered curiously at Erik who was sitting near the foot of the bed avoiding his gaze.

"Come here," Pavi said, gesturing welcomingly.

Erik hesitantly crawled up the bed and lay next to Pavi, barely making contact with him. Pavi chuckled and pulled the other man against himself. Erik laid his head on Pavi's shoulder. Pavi began to absentmindedly twirl his fingers through Erik's hair.

"Why-a so hesitant to cuddle with-a the Pavi?" Pavi inquired curiously. "It's-a not so bad is it?"

"I've never done this before," Erik confessed.

"Well-a, that makes two of us," Pavi said. "I've-a never been with another man before now."

"No," Erik corrected. "I mean I've never done this with anyone."

Pavi stopped twirling and sat up suddenly. He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Erik who had sat up to meet Pavi's glance.

"You're-a telling me that you were a virgin before –a tonight?"

Erik nodded, slightly embarrassed.

"This face doesn't exactly attract many people," Erik sighed.

"It-a never stopped me," Pavi replied. "I've had-a women crawling all over me for-a years."

"I lack your confidence," Erik said. "I've been watching you for some time. You move from woman to woman, never seeing one more than a few times. You ooze charisma and charm, yet you continue to hide behind the faces of deceased women. Why is that?"

"I-a suppose I've never really trusted anyone," he admitted, looking away from Erik. "I-a suppose that-a somewhere, deep down, I've-a been searching for something that I thought I'd-a find amongst all-a those women, but I was wrong."

Pavi returned his glance to Erik. The man was staring at him intently, frantically searching Pavi's face for something that would give him the courage to proceed. Despite his popularity among women and confident nature, Pavi Largo knew better than anyone what it was like to be a freak. He masked his insecurity in more than just the faces of dead women; he put up the façade that he was totally content with his appearance and the fact that he'd done it to himself. I've destroyed my beautiful face with plastic surgery. So what! I can still fuck more women than you! Deep down, he hated himself. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not realized how handsome he really was until it was too late? He masked his deformity with stolen faces, but he masked his true feelings with over confidence and promiscuity. If he ignored the harsh reality of the situation and acted like nothing was wrong, maybe everyone else would too. Erik knew this. He also knew what Pavi sought, for he'd been seeking it himself; acceptance. Both of them wanted someone to look past the scarred faces and dark pasts and see what lay beneath.

"But you've found it, haven't you?" Erik finally said.

A tear snaked its way through the scar tissue on Pavi's face, but he smiled despite it.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I-a believe I finally have."

ENDNOTE: Ok, so obviously I've chosen the Erik route that doesn't include Love Never Dies (SPOILER ALERT FOR THOSE NOT FAMILIAR WITH IT). Erik never had sex with Christine and conceived a child and all that. After she leaves in Phantom is the last he sees of her.

There's so much debate out there as to how Pavi came to look the way he does. Most people seem to agree that he was normal looking at some point and wasn't born deformed like poor Erik. I've seen it caused by botched surgery, too much surgery, an accident, an attack by one of his siblings (usually Luigi, go figure), and the death of his mother (whose face was the first he wore). I like to call my theory the Amber Sweet Theory because I used her portrayal in the movie as its basis. During the opera, her face falls off, revealing a sight not to different from the quick glimpse we get of Pavi's true face during "Genterns." She confronts Rotti earlier (during "Happiness is Not a Warm Scalpel") about her botched surgery that has ruined her face and before she goes on stage she's sticking on her "perfected" face. It's really a combination of botched surgery and too much surgery. Your body can only handle so much surgery before it just can't take anymore and any further surgery is unsuccessful. Amber just continues to try while Pavi says "Fuck it!" and starts wearing dead women's faces. That's just my thoughts. I used a series of observations to form a well thought out hypothesis, just like in all these damn science classes I'm taking. Reviews=LOVE!


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